Staring out the window pane
Seeing through yourself
Counting your blessings again
Wondering when it will be
And how it can be then
See the warnings of a storm
As patterns unfold themselves
To try and be whole

To live free with a quiet mind
And trust in someone else
I want to believe in the sun
Who in all its splendor is dying
I desire the solidness of earth
This ground is still shaking apart
What will be, will be